Date: January 30, 1990 (Tuesday).
Location: Highland Park High School / The Remington Estate.
Event: The "Future of Excellence" Gala.
The hallways of Highland Park High School had changed.
A week ago, the "Transfers" walked through these halls like invaders. Now, they were celebrities.
I watched Larry Allen signing a girl's binder. The girl was tiny—maybe ninety pounds soaking wet. Larry was holding the pen delicately, trying not to crush it, smiling that massive, gentle smile.
Jimmy Smith was leaning against a locker, holding court with three seniors who used to ignore him.
I walked to my locker. The days of people whispering "Hillbilly" were over.
"Cooper," a voice boomed.
I turned. It was Principal Miller. He used to look at me like I was a stain on the carpet. Now, he looked at me like I was a donor.
"Your father wants to see you. In his office."
***
The Football Office
George Sr. was sitting behind his desk. He wasn't looking at game film. He was holding a letter. The envelope was thick. Cream-colored paper. Expensive.
"Close the door," George said.
I shut it. "What's wrong? Did the UIL find a loophole?"
"No," George said. He slid the letter across the desk. "Read it."
I picked it up. The return address was a Burnt Orange Longhorn.
The University of Texas at Austin.
I opened it. It was an invite to the Spring Game. An "Unofficial Visit." For a Freshman.
"UT," I whispered. "They don't recruit freshmen, Dad."
"They do now," George said, leaning back. "That cross-body throw? The tape is circulating. You aren't just a high school kid anymore, Georgie. You're a 'Prospect.' The vultures are gonna start circling."
He looked proud, but tired.
"Speaking of vultures," George sighed. "Mr. Remington is hosting a gala this Saturday. The 'Future of Excellence' Dinner. It's a fundraiser. Black tie."
"Do I have to go?"
"We all have to go," George groaned. "Remington wants to show off his new toys. That means me, you, and the recruits. It's gonna be a long night."
***
The Living Room (Saturday Night)
The Cooper house was in a state of absolute chaos.
"George!" Mary screamed from the bedroom. "I cannot find my good pearls! Did Missy take them?"
"I don't have your pearls!" Missy yelled from the bathroom. "I'm trying to fix my hair! I look like a poodle!"
I stood in the living room, tugging at my bowtie. It was too tight. I felt like a penguin being strangled.
Meemaw was sitting on the sofa, fully dressed in a sequined gown, holding a tumbler of scotch. She looked fantastic and completely relaxed.
"You look tense, Moonpie," Meemaw said.
"I hate tuxedos," I grumbled.
"It's a costume, Georgie," Meemaw said. "Just like your football pads. Only instead of hitting people, you have to listen to boring rich men talk about their boats. Honestly, I prefer the hitting."
George Sr. walked out. He looked miserable. His cummerbund was crooked, and he was sweating.
"I look like a waiter," George muttered. "A fat waiter."
"You look distinguished," Mary said, rushing in. She found her pearls. She walked up to George and fixed his tie aggressively. "Now listen, George. There is going to be alcohol there. And gambling. We are there to represent this family and the Lord. Do not have more than two beers."
"It's an open bar, Mare," George said. "Remington is paying."
"Two beers!" Mary hissed.
Sheldon walked in. He was wearing a suit with short pants.
"Why are your pants short?" I asked.
"They are knickers," Sheldon explained. "It is traditional formal wear for a youth of my stature in the early 20th century. I aim to project an air of intellectual superiority."
"You look like a newsboy who got lost," Meemaw said.
The doorbell rang.
I opened it.
Serena stood there.
She was wearing a silver dress that shimmered under the porch light. She looked like she belonged on a movie poster.
"Hi," she said.
My mouth went dry. "Hi."
Meemaw leaned forward on the couch. "Well, damn. At least one of you looks like you know what you're doing."
Mary rushed over. Her eyes went wide. She was torn between "That dress is too low" and "My son is dating a van der Woodsen."
Status won.
"Serena!" Mary beamed, using her best society voice. "You look lovely! Doesn't she look lovely, George?"
"Yeah, great," George grunted, checking his watch. "Let's go. If we're late, Remington will dock my pay."
***
The Remington Estate
The gala was massive. A tent had been set up on the lawn, bigger than our house in Medford.
Inside, a string quartet was playing. Waiters passed around trays of things I couldn't pronounce.
George and Mary were immediately swarmed.
"Coach Cooper!" a man in a tuxedo yelled. "Tell us about the spread offense!"
Mary linked her arm with George's. She stood straighter. This was her moment. She wasn't the poor coach's wife anymore. She was the Queen of the Ball.
I walked with Serena toward the drink table.
"Your parents are handling it well," Serena noted.
"Mom is terrified," I whispered. "She's smiling so hard her face is gonna cramp."
"And your dad?"
"He's looking for the exit," I said.
"Cooper."
I turned.
Standing there was **Mr. Harrington**. Preston's dad.
The man whose son my father had fired. The man who tried to ruin us.
The music seemed to stop.
George Sr. saw him. He stepped away from his group and walked over, standing next to me.
The father and the son. Facing the enemy.
"Mr. Harrington," George said, his voice level.
Harrington looked at George. Then he looked at me. Then he looked at Serena holding my arm.
He took a sip of his scotch.
"My son is transferring to Jesuit on Monday," Harrington said.
"I heard," George said. "Good program. They run the I-formation. Suits him better."
It was a dig. A subtle one.
Harrington's jaw tightened.
"You won this round, Cooper," Harrington said. "Remington has the Board in his pocket. But seasons are long. And Jesuit plays Highland Park in Week 3."
"We'll be ready," I said.
Harrington looked at me. He didn't look angry anymore. He just looked old.
"I believe you will," Harrington said. "Enjoy the party."
He walked away.
George let out a long breath. He loosened his bowtie.
"Did you just trash-talk the Booster President?" I asked.
"I was being polite," George grinned. "I just gave him a scouting report."
Mary walked up, holding a glass of punch.
"Who was that? Was that Harrington? Did he threaten us? Do we need to leave?"
"Relax, Mare," George said, putting his arm around her. "He just came to kiss the ring. We're fine."
Meemaw walked by, holding two glasses of champagne.
"I found the shrimp," Meemaw announced. "And I found a man named Arthur who owns a racehorse. I might not come home tonight."
"Mother!" Mary gasped.
Serena laughed. She squeezed my arm.
"Your family is fun," she whispered.
"We're a circus," I corrected.
"Maybe," she said, leaning her head on my shoulder. "But you're the main attraction."
I looked around the room.
Mr. Remington was toasting the Mayor.
Larry Allen was at the buffet, eating a steak in one bite.
My Dad was the King. My Mom was the Queen.
And I was standing with the prettiest girl in Texas, holding a letter from UT in my pocket.
We had survived the transition.
Now, we just had to play the game.
[Quest Update: The Invitation]
* **Recruiting:** UT Interest Verified.
* **Family Status:** The "Royal Family" of Highland Park.
* **Booster War:** Harrington Surrendered (Transfer confirmed).
* **Romance:** Publicly linked with Serena.